CHAPTER XXXII.
WHAT CAME NEXT.
Violet shrunk back with an involuntary cry at sight of the man whom she hated, and who had come to her now to lead her forth to that hateful farce of a marriage, from the very thought of which her soul shrunk back appalled. Only the recollection of Dunbar’s promise to help her kept Violet’s heart alive within her breast. He had enjoined upon her to show outward obedience to Gilbert Warrington, and to do as he directed her; to even go through the farce of a marriage, if necessary, but to trust to Dunbar to rescue her, even at the last moment. And so, although the girl was half insane with horror over the peculiar and terrible position in which she was placed, she had made up her mind to follow Dunbar’s directions, no matter what the effort might cost her. In fact, it seemed the only resource—all that was left to her to do.
As for Gilbert Warrington, he could only stand and gaze with wonder at the girl whom he had fully expected to find under the influence of the drug which he had caused Mrs. Carter to drop into the food and drink prepared for her. He had entered the cell expecting to see the poor girl lying upon her bed, half dazed and wholly helpless—in his power, at his mercy. But there she stood before him, pale and calm, outwardly brave, her large dark eyes fixed upon his hated face with a look in their depths which made his bad heart quail. But he recovered his self-control and moved swiftly toward her.
“Good-morning, my dear Violet,” he began in a bland tone. “I am glad to see you ready and waiting for your bridegroom. Sorry that you could not have had a pretty and more suitable wedding-gown; and it is said to be unlucky to marry in black; but then, we can afford to laugh at superstitious follies, and our marriage will be a very happy one. Of course, I do not intend to insist upon your living as my wife. As I remarked to you before, you are at liberty to go to the antipodes if you see fit, as soon as you are Mrs. Gilbert Warrington, and have signed your name to the paper which I wish you to sign. But it is quite eight o’clock; it will not do to keep the clergyman waiting, and he is already arrived. Come, my dear, let us go down. You are ready?”
She drew back, her lip quivering, her eyes flashing with scorn and indignation.
“Ready to marry you, Gilbert Warrington?” she cried, her voice ringing out clear and scornful. “No, never! I shall never be that. But I have decided to obey you, and I must submit to this horrible outrage since you have me in your power. But, mark me, Gilbert Warrington”—she paused, and her eyes wandered over his face with a slow glance of scorn and hatred—“mark me, sir, you will regret this step, and the hour is not far distant when you will wish that you had died before you forced me into this hated marriage!”
“Bah! My dear, I will chance all that. I understand women and their ways and notions. I understand your nature, my dear Violet, like a book, and I repeat that I am willing to take all risks. As for regretting this step, how can you say such a thing? I could never do that. It means future fortune and position for me, and you may go to—the ends of the earth, for all I care—afterward!”
She shivered and turned away.
“Well, are you ready?” he asked, after a moment’s silence. “Eight was the hour appointed for the ceremony. I don’t see the need of keeping the clergyman all night. Come!”
He drew her hand through his arm and led her from the cell, out into a long, bare corridor, and down a staircase, another, and another, pausing at last before the open door of a large, bare-looking reception-room. Violet glanced hastily within, and her eyes rested upon a scene which photographed itself upon her memory, never to be forgotten while she lived.
In the center of the room stood the clergyman. He was no impostor, no sham, for Violet had seen his face before in the pulpit. He was a well-known minister residing in the city, a good man who never for a moment dreamed the truth in regard to the infamous wrong which he was about to perpetrate, or at least be a party to, and who never for a moment thought or suspected that the house to which he had been brought to perform the ceremony was a private asylum for the insane, or those whom cruel enemies wished to make the world believe were insane, and who immured within its gloomy walls the unfortunates who chanced to stand in the way of their wicked schemes.
When Violet saw this man, she realized that all hope was gone, save her trust in Dunbar. If he should fail her, then she was lost indeed. For there had been a faint hope lurking in the depths of her heart that if she appealed to the clergyman he might feel some pity for her, and, at least, would investigate the case before he performed the ceremony. But the girl realized intuitively that here all hope was in vain. The clergyman evidently fully believed that he was doing his duty, and nothing that she could say would cause him to swerve a particle from the path marked out for him. So she gave up all hope in that direction, and with a cold, sinking feeling at her heart, prepared for what was to come, while she resigned herself outwardly to the inevitable.
What if Dunbar should fail her now in her extremity? After all, she had only his word—the promise of a man who was a stranger to her, save for the part he had played in the search for her mother, and the fact that he was Doctor Danton’s best friend. But this fact alone was a passport to her confidence. Violet’s heart grew brave, and hope revived within her breast.
“God help me!” she whispered, softly; then, still leaning upon Warrington’s arm, she advanced to the center of the room. The clergyman made a few trivial remarks, then he opened the prayer-book in his hand, and an awful silence settled down.
Violet observed then, for the first time, that Doctor Langley and old Mrs. Carter were present, seated in a corner of the room, evidently acting as witnesses. She felt like the captive tied to the stake, around whom the fagots are being heaped, while one stands ready with lighted torch to apply to the pile, and certain and awful death is inevitable.
Slowly the clergyman began to read the marriage service. But the first few words only were uttered, when there came a loud and violent ring at the gate-bell.
Doctor Langley and Mrs. Carter started to their feet, pale and terrified. There was something ominous in that sound which brought terror to their craven hearts. Langley darted to the door of the room and laid his hand upon the knob. The door was locked upon the outside! The windows were barred with iron, like the others in the building. With a hoarse, inarticulate cry he fell back, and his face wore the look of a baffled fiend, an abandoned wretch just betrayed to well-merited punishment. Mrs. Carter crept to his side, trembling visibly.
“The game is up!” he muttered in a low aside to the old woman. But softly as the words were spoken, they reached the ears of the clergyman. He closed the prayer-book.
“There is evidently something wrong here,” he observed, sternly. “I will defer the ceremony until all is explained.”
Violet darted wildly forward and caught his hand in both her own.
“Oh, sir, help me——” she was beginning; but at that moment the door was thrown open and Dunbar the detective marched into the room, followed by half a dozen police officers in uniform. He went straight up to Warrington and laid his hand upon the villain’s arm.
“Gilbert Warrington,” he thundered, “I arrest you in the name of the law! Boys,” turning to the officers, “secure yonder villain known as Doctor Langley. I accuse him of being the owner and proprietor of an illegal institution known as Langley’s Private Asylum for the Insane, where perfectly sane people are imprisoned until death releases them, or until the wicked purposes of cruel and unscrupulous enemies are served. I rather think, Mr. Warrington, that my charges against you are too numerous to be specified. They run through the whole scale of crimes, from attempted murder down to abduction and embezzlement. Here, men,” addressing the police officers once more, “just march this precious pair, the old woman, too—quite a notorious trio—to the parish prison, where they shall be dealt with as they deserve, or Dunbar is out of his reckoning. Miss Arleigh”—he drew Violet’s hand through his arm—“you will come with me. I will protect you with my life. Did I not tell you to trust in me, and that I would save you? I am here also to find your mother. I have traced her to this city. Doctor Danton is also here; and, with the help of God, Rosamond Arleigh shall be found!”
